


Done

by sassy_pelican



Series: Bucky Barnes One-Shots [17]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24798793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_pelican/pseuds/sassy_pelican
Summary: "I'm done."
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Bucky Barnes One-Shots [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149938
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Done

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader  
> Prompt: “I’m done.” (via me)  
> Warnings: angst, like really, language, allusions to sex  
> A/N: I’ve been in a mood today and so this happened. Enjoy, or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. This is unedited.

You knew that what you had with Bucky was wrong. He never gave you enough and you always gave him too much. As far a partnership goes, it was shit. Still, you loved him. However, it was more than evident that he didn’t love you.

Every night he’d take you bed and you’d reach new highs each time. And you always hated yourself after. Minutes after you finish, one of you’d be gone. Forgotten until the next itch needed scratched.

Tonight, was no different. Laying there next to him, covered in a sheen of sweat and bliss you can feel your heart breaking, again. He doesn’t say anything, never does. Bucky only starts to pull his clothes back on before retreating back to his room, leaving you here to overthink every detail. Leaving you here to pick up the pieces of your heart yet again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, closing the door behind him before you can say anything. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had the words on the tip of your tongue, never to come out.

Silent tears roll down your cheeks. No matter how hard you tried to tell him no, he’s like a drug; one that you’re addicted to with no glimpse of a way out. And you’ve started needing your fix more and more.

“I can feel you from a floor up,” Wanda says, poking her head through your door. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not.” Wordlessly, she comes and sits on the edge of the bed, uncaring that you’re still naked and stink of sex.

“You need to end it Y/N,” she says. “This isn’t healthy.”

“You think I don’t know that! I know it’s toxic. He’s like a drug for me, and I can’t get enough.”

“How about I take you out tomorrow night, that way you’re not here when he comes knocking.”

“Alright.”

“Go shower, I’ll light some candles,” she says, digging through the stash in your dresser she started to accumulate.

The spray of the water might wash off the smell of Bucky, but it doesn’t wash away the feel of him. You can still feel his fingers in your hair, his tongue in your mouth, every thrust bringing your closer to bliss. And your heart breaks all over again.

Your tears crash over you, drowning you with the force of an ocean. Regret sinks into your bones, cracking them with its pressure. Falling to the shower floor you let yourself sob. If only to let the feelings out, never to truly make you feel better.

“Y/N,” Wanda says. “Come on hon, let’s get you to bed.”

You allow her to pull you up, wrap a towel around you and comb your hair. “I can’t do this anymore Wan,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“Do you think he knows? Would he even care.”

“He’d have to be horribly dense to not see it, and even more so to not care.”

~~

The bass of the song blasts through the speakers, loud enough that you feel in your bones. Yet all you care about is the strong drink in your hand. The numbness is nice, different from the numbness you feel after a night with him.

Your phone lights up, a text from the devil of hour. _‘Where are you?’_

It takes everything in you not to answer, instead you just turn it off, putting it back in your purse and take another long drink. “That was him wasn’t it?” Wanda asks from across the booth.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“You answer?” She asks, already knowing you didn’t.

“No.”

“Good.”

~~

There aren’t any lights on when you and Wanda return only the low thrum of the air conditioning. “You didn’t answer my texts,” Bucky says, standing from his concealed position on the sofa.

“I didn’t need to,” you reply, the stench of alcohol permeating the air.

“I was worried.”

“I was with Wanda, and I can take care of myself,” you reply as Wanda nods and head your room.

“I don’t care! I still wanted to know that you were safe,” he mutters.

“I couldn’t give two shits what you want Bucky,” you spit.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I’m done. I’m fucking done with you! I can’t keep doing what we’re doing!” you shout. A stray tear falls down your cheek. “You break my heart every time you leave, and I can’t take it anymore.”

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” he mocks.

“And yet I did,” you whisper. “Don’t come to room anymore, I won’t answer the door.”

~~

_2 years later_

Your heart no longer clenched when you passed Bucky; it no longer ached when you were sent on a mission with him. It didn’t feel anything for him at all but blissful indifference. Wanda noticed the difference in you, so did everyone else. You had more pep in your step, you smiled more, you carried yourself with confidence not there before.

Bucky noticed too and hated it. Hated that his asshole ways caused to you put yourself back together better than he ever imagined. He hated that he loved who you became. For two years he’s watched you sulk, break over and over again, only to glue yourself back together with gold. He watches you shine and wants nothing more than to take you to bed again. Wants nothing more than to love you like you longed for years ago.

“Y/N? Can we talk?” he asks you, trying not to look desperate.

“Sure,” you reply, leading him up to the roof. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I – I didn’t realize what I turned away with you. Didn’t know what I had until now. I see who you are and it’s, beautiful.”

Your eyes don’t leave his. “Spit it out.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you Y/N,” he says, hanging his head and hoping.

“You’re two years too late,” you say. “I wanted you, _needed_ you two years ago and you stomped on my heart. Now that I’ve put myself back together, grown stronger, finally gotten over you, you want me to give you a chance? I can’t Bucky.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t – I’m so – I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. “I am finally okay. I love myself. I love who I am without you.”

“I just want a chance Y/N,” he pleads.

“If you want a chance you have to prove to me that having you back in my life is better than my life without you, and I don’t bet on you winning.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his own tears starting to fall. Only now realizing how deeply he hurt you and that likely will never get you back.

“Me too Bucky, me too.”


End file.
